


In the Light of the Setting Sun

by Rinari7



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Genre: Bestiality, Explicit Sexual Content, Exploration of sexuality, F/M, Female Sexuality, Flipping Off the Jesus Allegory, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, No Incest, Other, Romance, Smut, pretty sure this qualifies though the beast is just as aware and consenting and a human, probably not that close to canon since it's been ages since I've read the books or seen the movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 20:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13934787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: He's her best friend, and she loves him. Why wouldn't she want to share this with him, too?





	In the Light of the Setting Sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chiaroscuroverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiaroscuroverse/gifts).



> I stole her Peter/Susan headcanon, and it was talking with her about Narnia ships that gave me this cracky idea I was somehow not able to let go of... and then it turned out not to be crack. Somehow.  
> Also, she is the bravest person I know when it comes to these sorts of things, and it has made and continues to make such a difference for me. Thank you. <3

His body is heavy atop her, for all he tries to keep his weight off her, heavy as his head had once been so heavy on her lap, on that stone slab on a hilltop. But this time, he is so, so alive. She tangles her fingers in his mane, relishing his stocky musculature, the soft, slight tickle of his fur against her bare stomach. “Well, go on! You know I won't break.”

He laughs, a low rumble she feels more than hears. “Impatience doesn't become you, Lucy.”

In response, she cants her hips, not quite able to wrap her legs around him but trying anyways.

He licks her face, his long rough cat-tongue across her cheek, as he pushes inside her. The barbs on his cock tug against her inner walls, pleasant pain she's long since learned she can't do without, forcing a mewl from her throat.

He stills now, to let her adjust to him again, because as often as they do this, she'll never be used to the heavenly way he stretches her. She tugs on his mane, to tell him to  _ move _ .

He's always so gentle. For all the power in those rippling muscles, she knows she only feels a fraction of it, and yet it's more than enough for her, as she feels every thrust through her entire body, as she clenches reflexively around him.

He tilts his head, extending that long tongue to swirl over her nipple. She arches into the sensation, gasping. One paw rests on her shoulder, to help keep her in place as he sets in to lick her over: the side of her neck, along her collarbone, down over her nipple again, the inside of her arm. Just the very tips of his claws prick her skin, not enough to harm. By the look in his blue eyes, he knows exactly how much she likes it.

He grinds against her, thrusting more quickly now, a little closer to his own frenzy. As she closes her eyes and comes for the first time that night, his name slips over her lips, almost a prayer: “Aslan!”

 

***

  
“Susan told me what she does with all the boys that come to her room at night,” Lucy said, as she strolled side-by-side with him across the sand. “She said I was old enough to know now.”

He let out a rumble that may have been part agreement, part laughter. She still couldn't always tell with him. “And why are you telling  _ me _ this?”

“I tell you everything, don't I?” She looked sideways at him, wrinkling her nose a bit. She didn't tell the others about his visits, about their walks. If he wanted to visit the others, too, he could, but she was getting older now — a Queen! — and a Queen was entitled to a few secrets, she thought. She wasn't just the little sister anymore.  _ He _ ’d changed all that for her, really.

“And I love hearing it from you.” He blinked, slowly, the corners of his mouth tilting up as he placed one footpaw silently in front of the other. “So, do you have any such plans for yourself?”

“No!” She shook her head. “Boys are just…” Words failed her. Not bad — sometimes quite nice, actually, both in personality and to look at. She just didn't want to do anything like  _ that _ with them.

Aslan chuckled, seeming to understand her perfectly. “They are.”

 

***

 

“Is it bad?” Lucy asked him, another evening, as the sun set over the water and the castle was but a speck in the distance. Peter always worried when she was out late, but she knew nowhere was safer than with her lion, and she loved the way the last golden rays seemed to set his coat aflame in yellow and gold. “What Susan does, I mean. She said not to tell the others.”

“Not necessarily.” He spoke almost contemplatively, as if thinking this over for himself for the first time. “If everyone is willing, and they're not hurting any other in doing so, then I don't think it is. Of course, many say differently.”

“Like Peter?” He was a good king, she thought, but a bit of a stick in the mud when it came to anything else. 

Aslan chuckled. “Perhaps. Although I think that has more to do with brothers and sisters not wishing to know such things of each other, or have them be known. Even though Peter isn't your blood brother.”

“He's my brother in every way that counts.” Edmund had explained it to her, at the time in a tone of resentment; that just because Mum and Dad looked after him when his parents passed away, meant he thought he was part of the family, a proper sibling, that he could boss them around, though even then he’d never failed to call Peter “brother.”

“Precisely,” Aslan said, and that brief furrow in his brow smoothed. He looked out over the waves, as if he could read the future in them.

 

***

 

When she saw the lone, four-legged figure on the beach, she practically vaulted from her horse. “Where have you  _ been _ ?!” Wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his mane, she took a deep breath, and tried to keep herself from crying.

He let out a sigh himself, a long, slow exhale of relief, and held her to him with one forepaw. “I've missed you, too.”

She hugged him for several minutes, breathing in his comforting, wild scent, more than a few quiet tears running down her cheeks. “I thought you weren't coming back.”

“I had… many things I needed to attend to.” Still, his paw was wrapped around her waist, claws ever-so-slightly sprung. “I can't always be here when you want me. I'm not a —”

“— Tame lion, I know.” She finished his sentence for him, and took a small step back, brushing the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. His paw he let fall to the sand again; something about him this time seemed tired, a little worn, world-weary.

“I guess — I guess I just wanted to think I was a bit special,” she said, and it sounded silly as soon as the words were out of her mouth, like something Susan would say, one of the silly things she said to her silly boys, with a silly glance over at Peter as she did so. “What have you been up to, then?”

“Learning more of the oldest magics, turning more of the newer laws upside down,” he said, as he stepped towards the surf, with a slightly haughty shake of his mane that made her grin with delight. “Care to join me?”

A little of that exhaustion seemed to fall from him, as he looked at her, and she pulled off her overdress and hiked up her skirt. “Always.”

 

***

 

“Are you — ?” He doesn't finish the question, his breath coming in heavy pants, hot on her skin.

“Yeah. Almost.” She shuts her eyes tight, fisting her fingers in his fur, tugging. The almost reflexive little growl he lets out sends shivers down her spine, sparks colliding with his short, sharp thrusts, swirling higher, coiling —

It won’t be her first, or second, orgasm of the night. The later are more hard-won, but they seem to be as much a point of pleasure for him as they are for her.

But he reaches his peak before her; he stills, and she feels him pulsing inside her, warm and slightly sticky and  _ right _ . But as much as she loves this, it's not enough to make her come, and she lets out a small whine of frustration.

As gently as he can, he slides out of her — there will be cum on the carpet again — and then his wet nose is bumping her clit and his tongue is worming its way inside of her and it's all she can do to muffle her shrieks.

 

***

 

“I've decided I want to have sex,” she told him, one evening.

Her words stopped him in his tracks. For a long moment, he looked at her, nostrils flaring as he inhaled, something sad in his gaze. Then he turned to look at the horizon again, and continued to walk. “Have you decided —”

“What's wro —” she began at the same time, and then they both stopped.

“You go first,” she said, biting her lip, and curled her fingers in his mane.

He shook himself, slightly, and she watched as it seemed to ripple through him, slow, easy power. “Have you decided with whom you wish to have sex?”

“No,” she said, “That's just it. There isn't anyone I can think of I'd particularly want to do it with.”

“That is a dilemma.” His usual good-natured,rumble returned, this time sounding mildly amused, and she felt half a stone lighter just hearing it.

“What was wrong, before?” She swept her fingers through his mane again, tightening them, her voice coming out a bit breathy, thought she hadn't the foggiest idea why.

He sucked in a breath, dropping his head, and when he spoke, it was quiet. “I fear the day I'll lose to a lover what little of your attention I may still hold.” A slight pause, and just before the words of comfort rising in her throat tumbled over her lips, he spoke again. “But you deserve your own life, Lucy. You have no need of me anymore.”

“But I'll always need you!” She stopped, tugging on his mane, tugging his head up to look at her. And the look in his eyes made tears well up in hers; those eyes had seen the worst of the world, and mourned alone. “I'll always love you, Aslan,” she said, fiercely, as she fell to her knees and pressed her lips to the top of his muzzle, pressed her forehead to his. “I'll always,  _ always _ love you.”

The look in his eyes made her cry again, but for a different reason this time, for the sheer hope and joy that shone out of them.

 

***

 

He's a  _ lion _ — she’s never cared about being naked in front of him, and that day was no different. He loved swimming, splashing about in the surf, never seeming to tire, able to hold his breath underwater for ridiculous amounts of time, staring at her with a broad smile on his muzzle until she was forced to surface before him, spluttering for air.

The merfolk that swam by smiled at the pair of them, showing off sharp teeth and setting their fingers to their mouths in a gesture — a promise? — of silence; Aslan shook his mane at them and showed his teeth good-naturedly right back. They darted away, tittering.

“I would have thought you’d know by now, the merfolk will do whatever they like,” she laughed at him. “What was that all about, anyways?”

“If they wanted you to know, I imagine they would have told you.” He arched an eyebrow at her as he clambered back up onto the beach and flopped onto the sand.

She lay atop his back, closing her eyes and letting the summer sun warm her. “I suppose so.” Still, it felt like she was missing something, but she refused to let anything infringe upon her time with  _ Him _ .

“How goes the search for a partner?” The question was almost careful. He stretched, deliberately; she tensed, gripping him with her knees and holding fistfuls of his mane, so as to not fall off.  “If you're not particularly enamoured of boys, what about girls?” A touch of teasing lurked in it, and a hint of unease, too.

“All the ones I know are married. Or my sister. Or dryads.”  She laughed. “And I don't think they'd look at  _ me _ .”

“Their loss,” he rumbled, “but you're likely right.”

She sighed, with half a mirthless laugh in it, and the words just slipped out: “It's a shame I couldn't have sex with you…”

He stiffened, beneath her, and she twisted to sit properly atop his back, to look down at him. His claws were fully extended, digging into the sand, and something about the sight made her tremble, hotly, softly.

“Who says we couldn't?” he asked, in a choked growl, and she dared to breathe again.

As it struck her, she laughed at how ridiculous, how blind she'd been. “Nobody.” Elation slowly filled her, and she leaned down to wrap her arms around him. “Nobody at all.”


End file.
